


"Hijack My Heart"

by lyllytas



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-12 00:32:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19217971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyllytas/pseuds/lyllytas
Summary: The anti-christ may have left him a cat, Crowley has a blog, and Aziraphale just wants lunch.





	"Hijack My Heart"

The cat, well that was unexpected. She just showed up. Adam must have done it somehow when he fixed everything. Crowley's garden was mostly unchanged, but now there was a cat tower and a litter box and in the kitchen was a cabinet full of neat little stacks of cat food, minus one, so Aziraphale must have fed her this morning.

"Right." He pulled out his cell phone to make a call as he eyed the beast. It was a deep black color, a slim red collar around it's neck and with eyes almost the same color as his. His eyes were not cat eyes, he refused to say that the cats eyes looked anything like his.*

(* They were really quite similar.)

"There is a cat. Why is there a cat?" he said when the call connected. "I don't have the slightest idea where it came from. Angel, you fed it. What do I do?" He stared at it. "I can't take care of a cat. Why didn't you say anything?"

"Oh dear. Well I thought it was another thing like the plants. I'll be right over."

Twenty minutes later and he was no closer to figuring out what to do, but there was a knock on the door.

"Oh thank Somebody." He opened the door. "Took you long enough. The thing looks like _me._ I'm almost offended. No creativity these days. I'll be giving a stern talking to to someone." He ushered Aziraphale in.

It turned out that his cat was down right frigid to anyone who wasn't him. Even Aziraphale, a being of love could barely coax it out from behind the couch.

"I don't think she likes me."

"Nonsense, everyone likes you," Crowley paused. "Actually I'm pretty sure both of us are on a lot of people's shit lists right now. And how do you know the cat is a she?"

"I just do."

"Of course you do. Well this cat feels entirely normal. Not like something Beelzebub sent."

"Well she's not one of ours either."

"Splendid. An 11 year old thinks I need a cat."

"Well she did seem quite friendly this morning when I was wearing your face, so I think she likes you."

"I don't want a cat. Small and fuzzy is you."

"Your plants are thriving."

"I can yell my plants into submission. Cats have teeth." Crowley made a face.

"Is the big bad demon scared of a little cat? Do some research on that internet you like. Feed her, give her water, honestly it's not that hard."

"No." He whined. “The internet is for plants, not cats. Take the cat to your bookshop. Book shops have cats, don't they?"

"Crowley, you're not pawning this off on me. She clearly doesn't like me. And it's just a cat. You'll hardly notice her. Now toodle-oo, off you go, and don't forget to feed her dinner.”

“Don't want a cat.” He muttered sourly to himself again as Aziraphale disappeared. The cat remained firmly adhered to reality, and he resigned himself to having to deal with her.

“Do you have a name?” He asked at last. “You're the product of an 11 year old's mind who named his dog _Dog,_ so I suppose _Cat_ is fitting."

On the collar, a tag jingled into existence, engraved with the name Cat and his phone number.

“I suppose he's right, but don't tell him that. I guess I'll have to look online.”

He threw himself down at the desk computer and started clicking his way through articles. The cat hopped into his lap and he startled at the sudden weight.

“Absssolutely not." He hissed. "I'm not some glorified cat bed.” She didn't move. Just stared at him and blinked slowly. Really, she was kind of warm, so he guessed he'd let her stay.

He booted up his computer and connected to the internet. Once he was firmly into _How not to kill your cat, an S.O.S. Guide for absolute idiot's_ that someone online had recommended; his fingers found themselves itching and stroking into her black fur.

“What's that sound? Why are you vibrating?” He pulled his hand back. “Did I break you already?" He checked over her, not finding anything amiss. "You don't look broken."

He looked her over again. "You're purring.” He realized. “My cat is purring." And then louder, "You need to stop.” He was quite stern to her. “My reputation is at stake here. No cute fuzzy animals making happy noises allowed in this residence.”

“Well alright.” He said when she kept it up. “But only when it's just us. You do this in front of the Angel, and I'll turn you into a rug. It'd be a very tiny rug. But a rug non the less. I'll put it right here on my desk. Right next to the mouse.” *

(*His threats didn't work on cats, for cats are their own masters and fear no creature.)

<~>

She was downright spoiled, he quickly realized. She would turn her nose up at certain foods, got mad at him if he was even a few minutes late feeding her, and kept putting dead rodents on the carpet.

Even worse, she didn't listen to him. Yelling had always worked for him in the past. But the first time he got mad at her, she made her displeasure known by slicing his finger up with her claws and disappearing for hours. He found himself using the “Aziraphale voice” around her, she like that well enough.

And though it had taken a few visits, she'd finally warmed up to the angel himself.*

(*Thankfully, for he would have found it quite difficult if his favorite person was disliked by his cat.)

<~>

His blog traffic was up again. Most of the time he posted plant pictures, careful not to post anything that would give away who he really was or stuff he would regret if it fell into the wrong hands.

Pictures with Cat got more likes though, so she was quickly becoming the star of the show.

Cat had worked her way into the demon's heart and was taking over his blog now too. Hell help him, he was NOT going to become one of those people who put costumes on his cat. No matter how cute they were. His cat was not going to become an instagram cat.

<~>.

“Alright Fuckos.” He brandished his mister as he spoke in a low even tone. “I think you've been getting too comfortable. The angel bastard has been treating you too nice. Don't think I don't see those yellow tips. I still have the garbage disposal. Don't make me yell. Cat hates that. And I'd hate to upset her." He moved on to the next row, spraying as he went. “I didn't raise you sorry lots to be looking like this. I'll be very disappointed if I have to dispose of one of you.”

Something had changed. He glanced up.

“My dear, are you talking down to the plants again?”

“You spoil them. I'm just keeping them in line.” He gave one final spray then glanced at the litter box like it personally offended him, and it cleaned itself in fear, worried that it had allowed itself to smell like litter boxes do, and that it could suffer a similar fate as the plants.*

(*Kitty litter would be hell on his disposal, but it would burn, or so Crowley threatened)

<~>

Aziraphale's phone chimed and he glanced down as the picture loaded. Crowley looked less than amused and was holding up a very smug looking cat. / _somebody shredded the leather on my sofa_ /

He smiled fondly. He was glad he'd given in to the demon's urging that he get a "proper mobile". He wasn't about to admit it, but he was glad that Crowley had taken to sending him updates on how Cat was doing, even happier that there were usually pictures. He looked at those pictures far more than what was appropriate for an angel.

<~>

“What's up?” Crowley said when he answered the door a couple days later.

“Did you forget we had lunch plans?” Aziraphale asked, annoyed.

“That's on Thursday.”

“It is Thursday." He huffed "You didn't take another depression nap did you? Only you would sulk sleep through an entire century.”

“That was mean, Angel. I'm proud of you.” He beckoned Aziraphale in.

“Well I see you've managed to make it an entire week without an incident.” Aziraphale said once he was inside. "At least nothing worth texting." He said idly as he set about making tea.

"Well nobody's dead yet."

He put the tea kettle on to boil and he crossed his arms. Trust Crowley to loose track of the days of the week.

"It's really Thursday? Man, I tell you, it's really one day after another."

"Yes, that is how time works. Your phone has a calendar on it, I'm sure. You should be better at keeping track of time. You wear a watch for crying out loud."

“I don't see the point of it. It's more of a fashion statement. Why bother keeping track of time? Cat yells when she's hungry, and Pets live even less than humans do. Plants at least have a long life. Kept those guys in there alive for hundreds of years.” *

_(*Some of Crowley's plants hadn't been seen in nature for a very long time and would make quite a few people excited at the chance to see them up close and in person.)_

“They're very nice, Dear.”

“Don't say that when they can hear you. They're getting soft. Cat gets fussy when I raise my voice.”

“As she should. The way you talk to them is absolutely dreadful. Poor dears.”

“Belt up! Don't you 'Poor Dear' them.”

“What about that one?” Aziraphale asked pointing to a plant sitting on the counter next to the mug tree.

“It's in time out. It knows what it did. S'lucky the cat hates the noise or it'd be mince right now.”

Aziraphale took the tea kettle off the stove and set about making tea for the two of them. “You moved your tea.”

“S'in the drawer,” he pointed at one. “She eats a lot. And she's picky. She doesn't like chicken on in the morning and on the weekend she wants fish.” He explained about the cabinets full of wet cat food.

"I thought you didn't keep track of the time."

"I don't. I'd certainly go through a lot less cat food if I did. I just know she's picky."

Crowley pushed past Aziraphale and walked into the living room. Cat was sprawled out on the floor, bathing in the sun, and drat if Crowley wouldn't have joined her if he was alone. She was oddly calm around his snake form, and basking felt so nice. Instead he draped himself along the couch, lounging comfortably.

“Here, come join me. We'll order in. Anything you want.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Anything?” He carried the two tea cups into the living room. “Got the sugar already in it.” He said as he set the teacup on the table.

“Well I've got an assortment of take out menus, but if nothings to your taste, I'm sure I can whip something up.” Crowley waved his hands.

“Hm. Well that does sound tempting.” He whacked at Crowley's leg. “Make some space.”

Crowley briefly picked his legs up before letting them drop into Aziraphale's lap when he sat. Aziraphale considered saying something but just settled for resting his hand around one of Crowley's bony ankles. “I swear your spine is made out of rubber. How does draping around like that all the time not hurt? My back gets sore just watching you.”

“If you're going to get sore from watching me, I may as well be doing something worthwhile.” he grinned cheekily.

“Gracious, Demon.” Aziraphale looked scandalized.

“You always were such a prude. Eh, that's what being on the nice side gets you. My side is way more fun.” Crowley paused. “Don't really have sides anymore now, do we. An angel and demon without orders. s'like I fell twice." he trailed off. "Depression nap, that what you call it? Maybe I should take one of those.”

“I'd rather you didn't. dear. It gets boring without you.” Aziraphale tried to banter, but was worried.

“Aw. You miss me.”

“Seeing whatever terrible style choices you make is always a point of amusement for me. In the 70's you had that terrible mustache. Don't think I'll ever let you live that down.”

“Looked like a bloody car salesman I did. The chicks dug it.” Crowley let his head fall back on the couch. “I'll never understand humans.”

“Me either. Have you been to see Adam lately?”

“No, but I did stop by and watch Warlock. We did spend a decade watching him. He's Definitely 11.”

“I think Adam might be on to something.” Aziraphale said after a moment.

“What's that?”

“You are rather similar to a feline.”

Crowley raised his head from the arm of the couch to look at him questionably.

“I half expect you to start purring.”

“Don't say that.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “The plants think I've gone soft. The Anti-Christ thinks I've gone soft, don't tell me you think I'm a softy too Aziraphale.”

“My Dear, if anyone is soft here, it's me.”

Crowley picked up the note of hurt in his voice.

“What?” he growled as he slithered up into a seated position. “Who do I have to hurt. Is it that assshole, the one with the purple eyes? Anyone who makes you sssound like that has it coming.”

Cat made an irritated noise at the vibes Crowley was giving off, and darted out of the room

“And you worry you've gone soft.” Aziraphale said, then patted his cheek. “Dear, it really is no matter. Not anymore.”

He sighed and dropped back down. “Aziraphale. I've been thinking. Got something to ask you.” He folded his glasses and set them off to the side.

“Well you always have been the curious one.”

“Yeah, always asking questions that shouldn't be asked.” His voice dropped. “Do you wonder if she saw this coming? I mean, she must have. She's all knowing. So what we went through, she knew it was going to happen. Knew I'd be you and you'd be me, and we'd both go free.”

Aziraphale chewed on his lip, as he thought it over.

“I mean, why even make us wrong in the first place if she knew we were going to cause so much trouble.” Crowley closed his eyes. “It's too early for this conversation, and we're not nearly drunk enough. I'm just being morose. Take out, then? How do you fancy kebabs?.”

“Why ask questions if you don't want them to be answered?”

They didn't talk about this, not really, but it looked like they were, after 6000 years of dancing around the subject and it was finally there, waiting to be explored.

“I always do that. I keep asking questions. I try and keep telling myself that questions are what got me in trouble in the first place, and I don't want to get you in trouble too. But sometimes it gets so loud in my head and the words just spill out.”

He sat up again, transforming his teacup into a shot of whiskey, not his usual drink, but he needed some liquid courage and it was hard to drink laying down.

“Angel,” he said once he'd knocked back the shot and it refilled itself. “Don't think. Thinking is what causes trouble. You just keep being all nice and stuff. Not thinking and being nice is why you to give away that flaming sword of yours.”

“I supposed she knew I was going to do that too.” Aziraphale blew pointedly on his teacup when Crowley took another shot. “Why are you of the opinion she made you wrong? Because you fell?”

“I feel like the averting the apocalypse should have left another scar. Falling. You don't want to ever feel that. Hope that it isn't what she has in mind for you.”

He took a third shot, trying to ease the feeling of his heavenly grace being burned away. “Aziraphale, What if it's not over. We may have fooled some people, but they weren't the ones that matter. She knows. And she is Vengeful. And I don't know how to protect you. That's all I ever try to do. I'm a terrible demon, I'm just too, what's the word you used? Nice.”

He took a fourth shot and pulled the shot glass closer to himself when it looked like Aziraphale might pry it away. “I have my own little patch of garden and a cat and I put plants in time out now, and I've spent the last couple thousand years trying to watch out for you because as nice as you are, you're a damned idiot, and someone's going to hurt you. And I can't watch you get hurt.”

He knocked back the glass so that he wouldn't have to look at Aziraphale and set the empty shot glass down by his glasses, no longer needing it. “Aziraphale, say something. I'm sure it's not too late, Heaven would take you back.”

“I don't want to go back.” Aziraphale set down the teacup. “Earth has nice symphonies, delicious food, and You.”

“Me?”

“6,000 years, I don't want to live without you. Look at me.” He turned Crowley's head so he could meet his eyes. ”You're my best friend, but my dear, you're so much more. I should have gone with you alpha centauri. The thought of facing an eternity without you was too much to bear. If I fall, I fall. I'd throw myself right into hell fire if I never saw you again.”

“No. No. Aziraphale, you can't fall. You've always been the good one. Falling hurts.”

“You're worth it, my dear.”

Crowley's eyes watered.

Aziraphale moved so that he was close enough to rest their foreheads together. “I should of said that thousands of years ago.”

“Angel.”

Their noses rested against each other and he grasped the side of Crowley's face.

“If she has a plan for us, we'll figure out how to deal with it together, now put that stuff away, it's too early to be drinking. I'm pretty sure you said something about kebabs.” Aziraphale stood up, offering his hand to Crowley, who took it and used it to haul himself up before lacing their fingers together.

“I was heading at the pet shop looking at scratching posts* when I came across a Kebab stand I think you'll like Angel.”

( _*he was definitely looking at pet costumes)_

“Well you haven't led me wrong yet.”

“Haven't I?”

“Indeed not. And not likely too either.” He squeezed Crowley's hand. “Lets see this Kebab stand of yours.”

They'd have to talk about this, figure out what _this_ even was, but maybe he wasn't moving too fast anymore, or maybe Aziraphale had finally caught up. Regardless, they were going to a kebab stand, together.

 

**Author's Note:**

> so I really like writing these two absolutely oblivious morons, and I'll probably come back to this. Crowley's blog needs expanded upon


End file.
